What the hell is a Lydia?
by babyvixen
Summary: "You are not the same guy," she mutters tiredly. She wills one eye to open, and sees the reflection of a 5'8" silhouette, well it is a dirty mirror, towering over her form, holding her hair back as she vomited for the third time, this time into the sink aided by a second set of strong arms around her. College au with no supernatural.
1. Chapter 1

"I am going to be fine, Ally." Lydia sighed on the phone, exasperated. "Hopefully, I will live to see a few more weekends which you can reserve for spending time with your supposedly best friend of ten years."

"You are mad at me, aren't you," Allison's voice came in a slightly higher pitch than usual, and at that Lydia finally understood how much the former wanted to see this new guy. "But this is the only chance of seeing him again and getting his number, Lyds. I swear, I have never seen such a...of course, that doesn't mean I forgot about you I just..."

"God, I am not mad, I was just kidding." Lydia laughed. "Go have fun, Al."

"I love you. We are going to make up for this next Friday, promise."

With that she cut the call.

Lydia smiled to herself. She probably was not going to hear the last of this guy who caught her friend's fancy at the DVBBS concert anytime soon. She refilled her pen and began writing the fifth page of her essay on Gene Regulation, putting headphones on.

The essay would be completed within half an hour.

Her gritting her teeth over day before yesterday's incident would not.

 _I had a summer lover down in New Orleans_

 _Kept him warm in the winter, left him frozen in the spring_

 _My, my, how the seasons go by_

"Lydia, come and dance!" Malia yells over the blaring music from somewhere in the middle of twenty sweaty bodies grooving sickeningly close. "Remind me sometime in the distant future," Lydia shudders shaking her head as a 'no' to the girl who would never understand how exactly Lydia wanted to spend a 'fun' Wednesday afternoon. Kira laughs at the face she makes. "Have something," she suggests. "Um, actually, alcohol being a diuretic, in this hot weather and timing, it can seriously interfere with your body's homeostasis," Lydia quickly rejected. Seeing her friend's face fall and eyes sort of glaze over, she bites her tongue. "Do they have cokes in here?" _Damn afternoon clubs._

"Hey, Lydia." _Ugh, not now._ It's one of the jocks she doesn't really bother to know the name of. "I will get you that." He smiles, and it's not the melting kind, in fact, she just wants to get away. Kira is dancing with Malia, one surreptitious glance confirms. A buzz in her pocket reminds her that Allison is not as close as she would have preferred. "Hmm," she turns away. He gets her a coke anyway.

Minutes later, or so it feels like, she is vomiting her contents out on the sink of the club's unisex restroom. Well aware of an onlooker, her stomach clenches unpleasantly, adding to the misery of her burning throat. Her head hurts.

"You okay?"

"What the hell," she manages, between chokes.

"You do look like hell."

She wants to glare at the boy looking down at her, she wants to incinerate him, burn that smirk off his face, and punch the lights out of him, but her head weighs her down.

"What's the time," she pants, sitting down on the floor, all sophistication screwed.

"Nine-thirty."

"What the hell."

"I know."

"Who even are you?"

"Oh, just your average loser taking care of an obviously wasted girl trying to keep her from puking on his shoes-oh dear god- and apparently failing." He rattles off at one breath as she does exactly what he predicts.

"You are not the same guy," she mutters tiredly. She wills one eye to open, and sees the reflection of a 5'8" silhouette, _well it is a dirty mirror_ , towering over her form, holding her hair back as she vomited for the third time, this time into the sink aided by a second set of strong arms around her.

"I am guessing same as the guy who handed you a so called coke?"

"Correctly so," she sobs internally.

"Definitely no, then. They spike the cokes. Maybe it's fun to try messing with people who want to remain sober."

She looks up at him and his irritated glance at his ruined shoes screams sarcasm, thankfully.

"Next time you come here," He leans down to her eye level, bending a knee. His eyes are light brown. Could be even golden in brighter light. They are beautiful, but his expression isn't. "Stay off driving duty or just bring mineral water to put off the thirst, okay?"

They stare a long while at each other. When he waves one hand at her unblinking eyes incredulously, she takes note of the toilet paper roll he is holding out to her, not so subtly eyeing the mess she made on herself.

"I need to go and find my friends." She says, trying to maintain a nonchalant tone.

"Able to walk?"

"Yeah," she lies, and as if trying to prove it, she trips miserably.

"I can see that."

One of his annoyingly firm hands snakes around her waist and seemingly halves the effective weight of her body. "C'mon," he urges, and they make way to the exit.

"Call your friends." He says, and it pains her that while she should be thinking of what possible things she might have left back there, or how many unspeakable things she did the whole while, or how come Malia and Kira could be _so fucking oblivious_ to her supposedly being shit-faced drunk, all she could do was watch his Adam's apple bob up and down and focus on his voice. Everything else seemed to be a blur of noise and neon lights and they weren't really aesthetic anymore, just sickening.

The muscle clenching in his jaw, his sharp cheekbones hosting a rosy tinge, were a different sort of distraction. Almost like an escape.

"My purse," she gasps in horror, as realization set in.

"It's here, it's here." Him rolling his eyes wasn't necessary at all, but she still wants to wrap her arms around him and maybe even kiss him, _yeah like how much more disgusted do you want him to be,_ as he brandishes her purse out of nowhere, like magic. She takes a while to fumble through all the items in it, feeling weirdly self conscious as he watches patiently...no wait, he is just sending a text on his own phone.

"Hey, Malia?" She wishes her voice wasn't so croaky and well, helpless.

"Where in the effing hell are you, miss?" Malia's voice is shrill through the speakers of her phone, nearly making Lydia cower. She is relieved, but also somewhat subdued. Her friends went back to campus without her.

"You worried us sick!" She hears Kira exclaim, imagining her snatching the phone from Malia.

Looking up at the boy's face she sees him raise one eyebrow at her.

"I am still at The Nemeton. With, um..."

"Stiles."

She gives him a look.

"I know Malia," he says, looking as surprised as she probably did. "If you're in her year, then I am in your year too. Springfield?"

"Springfield," Lydia nods at him.

Everybody in their year knew Malia, but how come she didn't notice Stiles? He is easily the noticeable kind. He has a beanie, which instantly earns him points, but there is something more, not in the leather jacket or the sparkly wristwatch that gave away the 'jock' vibe, but in the way he carries himself. One moment, he is smoothly supporting her through the parking lot ignoring the stares that follow them both like he gives zero fucks about whatever's going on around them, the next moment his fingers are drumming away intensely on the side of a car, and his eyes move back and forth as if expecting attack anytime.

"I am here with, Stiles."

"Whoa, you have some explanation to do," Malia whistles at the other end.

She explains the situation as briefly as she could, and hangs up.

"What's your name?" He asks.

"Lydia." She replies, shuffling her feet. It was awkward enough a situation to exchange pleasantries.

"What the hell is a Lydia?" He smirks, holding the door to his car open.

She finds herself enraptured by the smirk, but also extremely annoyed at his words.

"What I mean is that I didn't see you anywhere before today."

"Me neither, but at least I didn't say 'what the hell is a Stiles' as a greeting, did I? What even is Stiles, really?"

He laughs. "You are more pleasant when you are drunk." He says, and she is horrified again.

 _My ex's and the oh, oh, oh's they haunt me_

 _Like ghosts they want me to make 'em whole_

 _They won't let go_

Truth be told, Lydia wasn't sure why she was still on the edge about the incident two days later, even though there were parts of it which she didn't want to learn more about.

She played with her phone, rereading the same disturbing conversation.

 _I can't find u turn on location_

 **Malia 8:25 pm**

 _Took a cab at campus now_

 **Delivered 8:28 pm**

* * *

song is Elle King- Ex's &Oh's 


	2. Chapter 2

"I am so tired of telling you the same thing over and over again," Malia fumed, applying a second coat of coral gloss over her lips. "He was at the club, he needed to use the washroom, he found you there puking your gut out, he helped you, and he dropped you at ours since he knows me. Favour for a friend of a friend. There's nothing more to it."

"What about the text?" Kira questioned, glancing at Lydia's quickly darkening expression.

"We've been through this," Malia glanced once at Kira who dropped her gaze and then at Lydia, who fumed back steadily anyway. "Lydia was drunk, whether she wants to accept it or not. What matters is that she is safe, and she is with us at the moment, unharmed. Seriously guys, we are talking about what happened over a week ago."

"Stiles," She huffed as she turned away from the bathroom mirror, "Has. Nothing. To do with it."

Lydia threw her hands in the air. "Fine, I am just being paranoid. Leave Stiles. But who is this guy Aiden? He sent a DM on Instagram last Thursday and I only get DMs from those who are following me."

"Who is who?"

"I don't understand why you keep your profile private."

Kira leaned over to check the unopened "hey" beside the profile picture of a particularly beefy boy.

"Might as well as go with it and say hi, he's hot."

"That's not the point."

Malia laughed and placed a hand on Lydia's shoulder. "Lydia, the times I get drunk I often start making out with trees. And you here, you accept one follow request from a local Hercules and start questioning the point of your existence."

"Girls," Kira waved nervously between the two unrelenting girls, half laughing herself.

Allison choose that moment to step out naked from the shower, curtains wrapped around her.

"Give me a razor, I have like twenty minutes left." She urged, without any opinion or interest in the matter at hand whatsoever.

Kira, relieved at something to do, began digging through the toiletries while Malia openly checked Allison out, before softly saying, "Let's dress up Scott's prize first."

The three other girls chuckled and watched the prize struggle to hide her blush, and Lydia let the topic reluctantly drop. It's Allison's special day, Malia is all tips and advice and condom supplies, Kira is humming a tune and it's hard to be frustrated at any of them for long.

 _You say that I'm messin' with your head_

 _All 'cause I was making out with your friend_

 _Love hurts whether it's right or wrong_

 _I can't stop, 'cause I'm having too much fun_

She watched Allison's new love interest come down the stairs from the Veterinary Sciences wing, and immediately approved judging by the shirt she knew to be undoubtedly borrowed from Danny. Malia approached him first, even teased the guy with words she didn't catch and he shook his head exasperatedly at her before smiling so wide at Allison that Lydia felt her own cheeks hurt. Exchanging looks with Allison, she gave him one of her genuine smiles. "I knew this guy since day one, he has a Kawasaki KX, so he's in my good books," Malia explained as Allison and Scott left, already holding hands. "He's cute, though," Kira nodded dreamily.

Lydia didn't miss how Allison glowed at the guy. The tapping of her feet in anticipation, prior to his arrival. The intake of breath when he appeared. The questioning eyebrows at Malia's too-close-for-comfort acknowledgement. _This better work out,_ she promised to no one, eyes boring into the back of Scott's head, as Kira and Malia giggled about something and made their way to yet another frat party.

"No room in the schedule, huh?" Kira sighed at Lydia when she hesitated at the foot of the stairs.

"I am a TA for chemistry, remember?" She replied, still unsure.

"You dressed up with us, meaning you took this decision right now." Kira said, looking sad.

"Which means you are lying about having TA work now, since you never just forget a timetable." Malia piped in, eyebrows furrowing together again.

"So you are still anxious about Wednesday."

"And annoyed at me."

"No, she isn't annoyed at you, Malia."

"Trust me? I think..."

"Girls," Lydia interjected loudly. The two stopped, Malia thin lipped, Kira looking dejected, and she felt a pang of guilt. This was the first Friday in Springfield she wouldn't be spending with any of her three best girlfriends.

"It's just that I usually do all the TA Harris needs on Mondays, and Thursdays or Fridays. It's been only been Mondays and Thursdays for the past five weeks excluding last week, when I couldn't really go on Thursday, after, well. He hasn't left any message and I am a tiny bit surprised. Plus if I check the Thursday sheets today it will be much less traumatizing a routine for next Monday. And yes, I did just think about it now. It has nothing to do with anything that happened at the Nemeton."

She watched Kira and Malia look between themselves and decided the conclusion wasn't theirs to make.

"I guess I will see you tomorrow," Lydia said with finality, stepping back. Her red pumps had already started feeling uncomfortable. "And Malia, I am not annoyed at you. Promise."

She waited till she could return Malia's slow, but sure smile and then walked into the empty corridor.

 _So what if I go out on a million dates_

 _You never call or listen to me anyway_

 _I'd rather rage than sit around and wait all day_

"What in the bloody fucking hell?" Lydia screamed at nowhere, barely noticing a ton of papers flying around her frantically and the body in front of her moving in similar but unsynchronized frantic rhythm to catch them.

"Miss, that was my line," the boy said just as irritably. He had his back to her and was trying to catch the papers that had not fallen to the floor yet. _Excuse me?_

"Though slightly more profane than what I would usually say to a random lady stranger who walks straight into me despite the fact that this wing should at this time be peacefully empty of all six inch high heel yielding girls, one of which almost stabbed my crotch by the way, which would have ended my lack of sleep for three nights gloriously, three nights without even a goddamn coffee for Christ's sake, not that you care, do you, you wouldn't have just nearly shoved that Dracula shoe in me and not-so-nearly-but-actually knock my last two hours worth of hard work out into the air like they are free invitations for Coachella otherwise..."

Lydia listened in horrified fascination, still on the floor, to his speedy rambling, which had no signs of stopping, trying to ignore the _massive_ amount of pain in her right ankle.

He turned to her, the two watched recognition flick across each other's faces, and Stiles's eyes widened considerably.

Unfortunately, the mask she counted on since forever had already slipped, she was pretty sure she was reddening, and not gracefully so.

"Which is a lot of graciousness, you know, for a growing sleep deprived boy."

Lydia had forgotten by then how Stiles had begun his sentence, so it didn't make sense to her. She was more interested in why the fuck was he still looking at the papers for even a second long after he finished that awful rant and actually looked at and recognized her, without an apology, or even letting a hand out.

"Sorry, I just thought you'd have gotten up from the floor by now." He sighed and extended his hand. It was a familiar one. She remembered clinging to it desperately for balance as they somehow managed their way to the parking lot the night she didn't remember much of otherwise. "Where are you hurt?"

 _Late in being so courteous, growing sleep deprived boy._ "Nowhere." She was impossibly enraged, not at the uncalled for collision, but at his utter lack of sincere attention to her. Sure she had gotten rid of her high school facade a long time ago thanks to Allison, but no boy had completely disregarded her presence until this one.

Also, she was pretty sure that the real reason she was so ticked off at him was because of her ankle, and the fact worrisomely made her more emotional than rational.

"I can see that," He says, squinting at her position exaggeratedly.

His voice resonated in her head and brought back with it an oddly vivid flashback of him examining her in a dim unisex restroom, saying the same words.

"It's not that bad," Lydia lied.

"Yeah? Try getting up," Stiles challenged, his hand still out for her.

She looked up at him with unusual hatred and involuntary scrutiny, _will you look at those moles girl,_ and attempted to get up.

Her scream of pain echoed in the hallway.

 _You're on your knees, beggin' please "stay with me"_

 _But honestly, I just need to be a little crazy_

 _All my life I've been good but now_

 _Ooohhh_

 _I'm thinking "What the hell?"_

She had been desperately trying to remember the lyrics of that stupid song Kira had been humming earlier, all to make her mind focus on something else besides the pain, but Stiles was so far not helping. Not even with the packet of ice he brought straight from the nurse's office, _super_ _sneaky_ _if he was gone for only five minutes because Ms Morell doesn't stop asking questions,_ in fact the more the boy seemed to be around her, the more upsetting news he brought along.

"I swear you are a freaking banshee," Stiles accused, reordering his precious papers with one hand and rubbing his ear with another. He looked at her and smirked, _actually smirked,_ and stacked his work, _that should have been mine_ , on the opposite side of the table she sat on, pressing the ice to her ankle. She didn't trust herself to reply; this was a particularly bad mood she was in. She had already cursed herself a million times in the past ten minutes for not going out with Malia and Kira; and Lydia _never_ cursed herself.

Meanwhile, Stiles sighed beside her. "I can only say sorry so many times."

She was oddly anxious to get out of there, not only because she had a major sprained ankle that made her unable to walk, but also because his fingers drumming on the table made her feel like she should say something, but she wasn't sure what. The only thing that had chances of coming out of her mouth then were pointless obscenities.

"How long have you been in the advanced chemistry class?" she finally settled for the most uninteresting question.

"Since my second day here."

His fingers stopped drumming on the table and the sudden absence of vibration piqued her curiousity. When she stole a glance at him, wishing she didn't want to, he was trying hard to smother laughter.

"What?"

"Don't pretend like you don't hate me."

That was it. She moved her good leg down from the table. "I am leaving." She announced tightly.

"You want to get into my arms so soon?"

Lydia groaned internally.

 _All my life I've been good but now_

 _Oooh_

 _I'm thinking, "What the hell?"_

"It's not even that funny," she grumbled as Allison plopped down on her bed laughing again. She wondered about the last time she had seen Allison so happy. _Eighth grade, when she won her first national level archery contest._

"Hey, it was you who opted for a night in checking some stupid chemistry papers."

"I know, it's killing me." Lydia replied without emotion. "Think of all the other ways I could have found out Harris found a new TA just 'cause he couldn't deal with _one_ day of unchecked papers. That guy needs to get work done on his own, you know. Where was he today, actually? He informs whenever he is on a leave. And apparently Stiles didn't know anything about it either."

Allison propped herself up on her elbows and smiled so brightly at her Lydia felt all the negativity around herself start disappearing.

"Or maybe he should have just appointed a less hot guy for a TA who doesn't make you go all speechless and embarrassed and unable to function. And awfully red, should I happen to mention it."

Lydia threw a pillow at her.

"I didn't see he was inside, and I wasn't expecting anybody to be inside. He just came out so suddenly and I was about to go in, so it was bound to happen. It's still his fault though."

"Oh Lyds, I am barely interested in all that." Allison said, rolling her eyes. In the entirety of the last two hours after coming back from her first proper date, Lydia had not seen her stop smiling even for a second. She looked funny like that, her dress half undone, rolling her eyes with a continuous smile, half teasing her roommate, half lost in her own thoughts. Lydia felt a sudden fondness for Scott.

"Then what are you interested in?"

"Did he carry you bridal style all the way back to dorm?"

"Give me back that pillow so that I can throw it at you again."

 _If you love me, if you hate me_

 _You can't save me, baby, baby_

 _All my life I've been good but now whoa "What the hell?"_

* * *

The song is "What the Hell" by Avril Lavigne. I know it probably doesn't make sense with the context but I just keep the music in the background, just as a sneak peek into Lydia's playlist. And OH I AM SO happy that I got like 8 follows on this story haha I am new so. By the way the Nemeton is a club.


	3. Chapter 3

**alphaiden :** hey

 **denlillehavfrue** : hey.

 **alphaiden :** wat does ur username mean

 **denlillehavfrue** : It's just the name of my favourite classic.

 **alphaiden :** haven't heard of it. u look really pretty btw

 **denlillehavfrue** : thank you

 **alphaiden :** I keep bumping into u near the history wing just didn't have a chance to talk

Lydia shook Allison's arm again. "You know any Aiden in your history class?" "Aiden," she mumbled sleepily, wrapping the blanket tighter around her. "Isn't Danny's dating his twin?" "He's Ethan's twin?" Lydia asked, surprised. "Well I haven't been introduced to Ethan yet either, so I shouldn't know. And will you wake up already? I can't go to classes today, find me something to do." "You can't do me now, it's eight in the morning," Allison grumbled, squirming under Lydia's grip in mock refusal, completely awake but too lazy to open her eyes. Lydia laughed. "I don't know, I kind of have a thing for half conscious idiotic huntresses with dreadful morning breath," she sighed, and clicked her tongue at her roommate trying to unsuccessfully slap her hand away from still underneath the covers.

 **denlillehavfrue** : I don't take history but I come to pick up my friend Allison from class sometimes

 **alphaiden :** oh so the girl you hang out with outside history is allison?

 **denlillehavfrue** : Don't you take history?

 **alphaiden :** yea, but I wasn't aware she's in my class its only been a month lol

The grammar Nazi inside her rolled eyes, hoping it was a typo.

 **alphaiden :** well I do generally know all about jackson's girlfriends but I haven't met this one

Lydia froze. Her palm loosened around Allison's arm.

 _Told myself that you were right for me_

 _But felt so lonely in your company_

She toyed with her hair, books open and ignored on her lap, watching the screensaver bubbles collide with each other over the unfinished research work on her laptop screen. It wasn't the project that made her worry; it would take her next to no time, and she had plenty of time. Movement lacked motive and her leg was useless anyway. All she could do besides writing a brilliant paper was wait for the girls to bring her lunch from the campus cafeteria.

 _Lydia, what's wrong?_

His voice made her skin crawl from underneath a thousand high school stories she carefully buried inside her head long ago. It felt long ago.

 _Lydia, look at me._

The bubbles blurred.

 _You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness_

 _Like resignation to the end, always the end_

It was him, combing his fingers through his already perfect hair, just to bring out the mandatory ruffle. His hand locked around her arm in a steel grip and she willed herself not to scream at his face in front of the whole school body. Her eyes stung due to the hurtful contact, but also because she knew the glint in his eye and it didn't bring back any pleasant memories.

Unlike the rest of him did. Unlike the scents he owned that she memorized breathing in. Unlike the angle of his cheekbone she remembered fitting into the curve of her palm. Unlike the proximity of his chest to hers that gave her involuntary shudders and filled her with terrible, unplanned _want_. Unlike _him,_ who didn't know how she smiled to herself when they were not moving against each other in empty locker rooms or muffling their moans over a random teacher's desk after class, daydreaming about how it could have been better, or mentally clearing her schedule for the next day so that it would.

 _What's happening to you? Do you want me to tell everyone you are going bat shit crazy?_

It was his aggression that had first drawn her to him, which led her to discover a perfect concoction of rage, energy, youth and competition that she lavishly wished to utilize. But her intentions wavered the very moment she came to know about the misery underneath his facade.

 _Tell me Lydia,_ the monster ferociously whispered in her ear. She knew how it looked to onlookers on the other side. Two people in love, one consoling the other during a breakdown, possibly squeezing in little sweet nothings to encourage.

She wanted to be on the other side.

 _Fuck, now you're actually gonna cry? Girl, I got practice in ten minutes!_

She couldn't tell him. Jackson Whittemore wouldn't listen to stories of lost grandmothers and absent mothers and smashed mirrors in her bedroom, not two days before game night and prom. He would have empathized, though. His eyebrows would furrow a little less, and she would get comforting kisses and gentle words for a few minutes. Then he would tell her to get together. That he will be taking her to a dance wearing a pretty dress she decided on weeks ago before she stopped caring at all, and that she will be the trophy he thinks she is, happy and flawless, worthy of showing off to all the players who lost to him. Not a girl with eye bags her makeup doesn't last long enough to cover, not a girl who would spend the most anticipated day of the senior year crying inside a toilet cubicle.

 _Lydia, people are going to start talking._

She looked up at him, and she wanted to believe fiercely for one moment that he didn't deserve her. But suddenly, the tightening of his hand around hers was gone, taking the moment along with it.

His eyes darted between hers, confused and nervous, as if he felt his own nails push into her skin too hard. As if hers did the same to him. She checked with a quick, unbelieving downward glance, but her palms were balled into fists.

 _Oh, shit. It's me again, isn't it? ...I am sorry, baby. Shush. Hey, look at me._

She was pleased to see that he didn't ask if she was okay, that he was learning. He kissed her unresponsive lips, and the crowd dispersed.

 _So when we found that we could not make sense_

 _Well you said that we would still be friends_

Lydia jumped, making two books fall out of her lap as someone knocked at the door, pulling her out of an incredibly rare silence she had the privilege of experiencing in this place. "Come in," she hastily called, ashamed of her heart beating so loud. In normal circumstances, she would have instantly been on the alert as her friends were still foreign to the culture of knocking, always barging in whenever they wanted to, seeing there were no locks in any of their dorms. However when Stiles Stilinski sauntered into the room holding a lunch tray high in the air, as normally as a circumstance could allow, she was too busy turning the other way wiping tears and smoothing out her expression to care. Pitifully, her much practiced composure vanished when she faced her lunch laden visitor.

"Malia got called to the office right in the middle of taking this from the canteen to your place, so I...volunteered."

He made a face as she stared.

"Because I am not a bad guy," he continued, squinting at her as if he couldn't believe he had to actually say that out loud, holding her tray with one hand as he scratched his forehead with the other. "And I am kind of upset about your..." he waved the free hand at her awkwardly lying on the bed, "...condition, as no girl deserves to miss classes and lunch because of a collision with a random guy late at night skipping freshmen parties and looking for work." His voice dropped an octave lower to add something about "bringing it on herself" and "blaming the poor guy instead", and put his hand in his pocket, which had started waving around more than he had possibly intended to.

They both looked at the ground for a while, since that sounded dreadfully insincere.

"So... you're hungry, right?"

Lydia felt an intense, primal instinct to snarl at him. He must have realized the feeling telepathically, because he stopped holding the tray at his nose level like a trophy and bent down to hand it over without spilling anything.

"I guess nobody else was with Malia at lunch?" she asked casually, and bit her tongue immediately.

What if he thought that was rude, even for a typical conversation between them? They were still too much of strangers to be bantering without any lasting effects. Also, he had already helped her more than twice now. People who did that in the early stages of any sort of relationship with her had proven themselves to be useful later on. She smirked to herself, remembering her little high school rule book, waiting for his answer, watching his eyes narrow. _You need to stop._

He shook his head slightly at her. Hair sticking on end. Smile tugging at his lips for whatever reason. She had no clue how much she got on his nerves, if she did at all.

 _Maybe that's why you won't stop._

"Allison was sucking Scott's face, Danny Ethan's, Isaac, Cora since not an item yet were shooting daggers at my mere presence, not to mention Erica trying to pinch my thigh under the table and Boyd sullenly staring into the depths of my soul. I just wanted a teensy bit out of there."

His eyebrows shot up when she nearly choked from a sudden giggle.

"Be careful," he grinned. Surprised, Lydia stopped fixedly gazing at the food.

"What is it?" she asked him, marvelling the way he didn't take offense to anything she said or implied.

"You shouldn't laugh or talk while eating," he said slowly, as she were two.

 _He made you laugh._

She suppressed her awe and resisted the urge to give him a once-over again, even though she had done so thrice already, all in the past minute. What was even there to look beyond plaid and a faint cinnamon scent? He wasn't gaping at her anymore, and it didn't matter.

"Where was Kira?" She asked as it hit her out of nowhere.

"Who's Kira?" Stiles asked back, and Lydia sighed.

"Yukimura's daughter, you know, the history professor. Must have had lunch with him today too."

"Social anxiety?"

Surprised yet again, she frowned. Why wasn't he leaving yet? Not that he was intruding. A mental image of Kira dancing by the door silently and frantically mouthing at her to stop talking popped into her mind, but she disagreed with it.

That was not intruding.

"More like bad high school experiences. Really hates the canteen and all the crowd, always looking for a chance to eat alone. We'll talk her out of it eventually," Lydia said, and lowered her gaze, done trying to understand his body language. Three minutes in, all she found were moles and hazel and fidgeting limbs.

"Let us help," Stiles said, scratching his forehead again, "'Cause Scott's definitely not going to leave your girl alone for lunch after today, god, I wonder how that boy's face withstands hours of smiling, and, to be honest it looked like everyone except Boyd were really at their peak, too. And if we are planning to do this every day, we can't let someone fall behind, can we?"

Lydia heart warmed. She wanted to say a lot of things to this boy, _to Stiles_ , maybe explaining what Kira explained to her dozens of times before, but somehow she didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure how many casualties this hyperactive, inexplicable boy could inflict on her besides a sprained ankle already because he just walked into her room holding her lunch that he caused her to miss and stood there chatting with her like she didn't even hate him and then he offered to help out a complete stranger or the friend of an almost stranger like it was something so natural, something everyone in the planet would give a shit about.

"And I have never seen Boyd at his peak, so don't worry about it," the boy smiled goofily, holding two thumbs up, moving towards the door.

He stopped right by it, poked his head inside again staring at her as if he was trying to remember something.

"I corrected only one-fourth," she rolled her eyes.

He made the most shocked and betrayed expression one could imagine and she half expected him to clutch at his heart.

"Hey, I gave you a third of my portion to utilize your time! What else are you going to be doing sitting in your dorm all day? You are still an ex-TA, remember the days of glory? Relive them now or never, we could get another bundle of twice the number of papers on Thursday. I am definitely gonna talk to Harris and tell him you helped!"

Lydia wasn't sure whether to laugh or to cry. She scoffed, not believing his audacity, understanding his scheming at last. "Cut that crap. You want to go out tonight and dump all of your share of unchecked papers on me by tomorrow morning. You just checked on me today to make sure my ankle was still bad enough for me to stay in another day, didn't you?"

Stiles laughed. _And I almost believed he wasn't an asshole._

"The last part isn't true, as I said, I chose giving you lunch rather than have Isaac and Cora fume at me wordlessly. The first part, however...yes, I have to go out with the boys tonight." He sighed and shrugged like he didn't care at the same time. "It's a formal monthly meeting with some of the Devenford boys that we are close to. Jackson will particularly flip out if we miss it, helps that he came back from London like two days ago so he'll have plenty to complain about...aaand I am rambling again, sorry. So yes, you might want to check your share fast, otherwise you are gonna be piled up with both mine and yours in no time."

"No way," Lydia breathed.

"Aw c'mon, I meant it as a favour, girl. Like, with credit and everything. Like, you shouldn't feel compelled to do anything as I say, but I _did_ , you know, take care of your leg and bring you lunch..."

She watched his Adam's apple bob up and down, eyes glazing over his animated hand gestures, not listening anymore.

 _And I don't even need your love_

 _But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough_

When Allison walked into their room at nine in the evening, hair ruffled and lipstick smudged, she had a face Lydia assumed to mirror her own. They both knew, but they didn't ask each other how.

Wordlessly, she took Lydia's assignment out of her hands, and switched off the light. They undressed in the dark and lied down on their respective beds, way too early for them.

She didn't know how to say goodnight without it being awkward, so she simply listened to Allison shift in her bed and waited for her to say something, which she ultimately did.

"He's not going to cross your path anyway, and it is probably just for a few days."

It didn't help much, and the girls waited for each other to speak again.

"You're Lydia Martin," Allison said quietly. "It won't hurt if you don't allow it to."

Lydia smiled in the dark, but something in her cheeks hurt. She had not spoken to her best confidante in twelve hours, which felt weird in a ridiculous way.

"You sucked Scott's face at lunch?"

"It was just a peck! Who the hell worded that?"

The tension in the room disappeared at once.

"God, don't listen to Stiles. Ever again."

"Believe me, I try not to. So, just a peck on the lips that told everyone within sight you were his?" Lydia teased, feeling her roommate blush without needing to see it.

"I don't suck face, Lydia, especially not in public." Allison trilled happily.

The silence grew more comfortable after that, but as nightfall progressed, images of Allison's lips on Jackson's climbed into Lydia's mind, clingy and dangerous. She took her phone and deleted her unnecessary chat with **alphaiden.**

 _You said that you could let it go_

 _And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know_

* * *

song: Somebody That I Used To Know 

Alright, many people are under the assumption of that this is a role reversal story, and I get why- I initially meant this to be a role reversal story. It's just that I wanted to write for a tumblr prompt which I misread. It actually went something like "stiles is cocky and lydia hates him at first then they become friends and start dating" but the moment I saw "Stiles was cocky" I immediately thought this would be a role reversal story and started writing it like that. But the site I was writing this for was kind enough to correct my mistake, so I made their characters just as they originally were. The only way I can compensate for this mess now is that they are both in college, so they have significantly developed from their high school personalities. Stiles is much more confident and smooth than he used to be, and Lydia is more reserved and sick of pretending to be something she's not. Also Stiles isn't richer just 'cause he's wearing leather jackets and sparkly wristwatches, he's just taking notes from Isaac. He still likes plaid. Sorry for all the confusion. If you guys like this so far please leave reviews, it makes me upload the next chapter faster. Just being honest :) I had a sudden epiphany two days ago (completed my exams here in India just a week ago) and I started writing this chapter at 12:02 am, finished at 3:15 am. I woke up so pleased with myself yesterday but then I read it again and nearly cried because I wrote such a stupid little thing and wasted so much time. I just finished editing this and it is 1:14 am at my place. Hope I don't delete this chapter tomorrow.


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